Fox in the Pyramid Scheme

The **water** bottle in Maya's hand was sweating more than she was. Which was saying something, because it was ninety degrees and she was standing next to Jason, who had somehow managed to become the apex predator of sophomore year without ever actually doing anything cool.

"You coming to Jordan's party tonight?" Jason asked, not really looking at her. His eyes kept darting toward the **fox**-printed hoodie that Skylar was wearing across the cafeteria. Because of course Jason was obsessed with Skylar. Everyone was. That was just the social **pyramid** at Lincoln High—Skylar at the top, then Jason's crowd, then everyone else trying to figure out how to climb up without looking like they were trying.

"Probably," Maya lied. She had zero intention of going to Jordan's party. Last time she'd shown up to something like that, she'd spent two hours holding someone's **dog** because it was "so adorably anxious" and she was "so good with animals." Code for: she was the only person not doing shots in the kitchen.

"Cool." Jason still wasn't looking at her. "Hey, can I borrow five bucks?"

Maya blinked. "What?"

"For this Fortnite skin. It's, like, legendary and I'm short." He said it so casually, like asking for money from someone he'd barely spoken to since seventh grade was normal.

"You're asking me for money?"

"You got that inheritance thing, right? From your grandma?" He actually had the audacity to smile, like they were friends. Like she was just supposed to hand over cash because his skin needed to be more legendary than it already was.

Maya felt something shift inside her, something that had been building all year. Every time someone asked her to hold their purse at lunch. Every time she got assigned as someone's "partner" in group work because she was "reliable." Every time she ended up third-wheeling with couples because she was "so chill" about it.

She set her **water** bottle down on the table with a deliberate clink.

"Jason," she said, and her voice didn't shake even though her **palm**s were sweating, "you have a $300 phone. You buy lunch every day. You're wearing limited edition Jordans."

He looked confused. "Yeah, but—"

"So if you need five dollars from me, something is wrong with your priorities, not my wallet." She picked up her tray. "And I'm not going to Jordan's party. I'm going home to watch Netflix with my actual friends. The ones who don't treat me like an ATM."